Payroll by William James Johnson Chapter 5

As spring settled in around CFB Riel, the drab brown of the fields changed to a vibrant green, the neat rows of grain forcing up fresh shoots. Silky enjoyed taking Sandy for rides in his open sports car, always careful to take the unused back roads, so that no one would ever see these partners together. When he came across a stream, he would park and walk with Sandy, tossing sticks into the fast flowing water for the old dog to fetch. No one would think Sandy had endured such an exciting past, if they saw how puppy-like he had become under the guidance of his new owner.
Back at the farm, the two continued practising the "meatball and command" routine so essential to Silky's plan. He was using the technique now in different surroundings. Sandy still was able to restrain himself until Silky gave him the word to eat the food.
The backyard of his small farm looked like a gopher kingdom, there were so many holes and mounds. Sandy had to do something while Silky was away all day, and except for the unsightly mess that was resulting, he couldn't see this as any particular problem.
Looking for the ingredient which would complete his plan, Silky pored over a large text on chemistry by the flickering light of a kerosene lamp. Sandy slept peacefully beside his master. Reading aloud, he found reinforced his understanding of the material he was studying. His voice also soothed his canine friend.
"Methaldehyde...used to kill garden pests. Sold under the name of 'Slug Bait' poison...humm. Extreme caution must be taken when used in a domestic setting. Dangerous to pets and small children. Symptoms if accidentally swallowed; rapid increase in temperature...hyperventilation, convulsions, vomiting ...death within an hour or less depending on size of dosage."
Silky looked up from his text. He became very serious as he thought about what he had just read. Looking down at Sandy, he stared at the peaceful animal who was so trusting. He bent down, and gently stroked the beautiful animal's head. Sandy opened his eyes partially, and went back to sleep.
"Everyone dies by the poison of his choice old fellow. This is what it's all about."
Taking his old van to Garry the next day, he parked it on the main street where he could observe the bank and the railway crossing, without being seen. He had been given the day off because he had taken someone else's duty on the weekend. About 9:45 A.M. he watched the Army bus coming from the south. When it reached the crossing, the driver stopped the bus and opened the door, looking both ways before proceeding. It all seemed so ridiculous. He had discussed it with the Captain, but as with many things they discussed, the Captain didn't get the significance.
Twenty minutes later, he saw Captain Sayer and Corporal Tilly, accompanied by the two army guards coming out of the bank. The Captain carried a brief case, and Tilly had the pouch with the payroll. As the bus passed him, heading for the base, it stopped again at the crossing, the driver repeated his routine. Silky smiled at the predictability of it all. He wondered what the Captain would say if he knew his plan, particularly after he told Sayer how he felt about recognizing opportunities, and acting upon them. He was sure his plan would work. All he needed to do now was wait for the right moment.
As summer approached, so did the right moment. The real sign summer had arrived was the line of khaki coloured buses unloading fresh looking young men and women for Militia training. The weekend soldiers came from all over the province to do their two weeks stint in a real army camp. Tilly and Silky watched the buses disgorging their eager passengers on the parade square. Waiting for each bus load was a designated DI, his hat squarely set with chin to match, who began shouting from the moment the first civilian hit the tarmac, until they were bedded down that night.
"Thank God for the regular Army," said Tilly.
"Looks like a helluva lot of extra work to me."
"No problem for us. It's only numbers. It's those poor bastards who gotta mother these greenhorns who take most of the load."
"How many do you think we'll get?"
"Routine orders calls for an extra 800 bodies."
"Wow...At $300.00 average per man, per week, poor little Garry will go nuts with prosperity."
"You can say that again...But it's not only the money. You think Rona was somethin', wait until the summer chicks start showing up...Garry becomes a real Sodom and Gonorrhea..."
Silky ignored Tilly's last remark, busying himself with his calculator. He multiplied 800 by 300 for each week, then doubled it again for each two week session.
"Jeezuz. That's almost a half million bucks twice a month, and when you add it to our present take of three hundred grand...be a nice haul for someone."
"You better believe it," said Silky, smiling.
"Gawd, the Captain's even got you talkin' like him now."
"Yeah. He's not such a bad guy. We've been getting along better since the St.Patrick's do."
"Just like I told you...Not so hard being one of the boys."
"I wouldn't go so far as to say I'm one of the boys."
"That's not what Rona tells me...You sly son of a gun."
"Keep Rona outa this. She's a lot nicer than you think."
"Oh yes...nice, as in really good, if you know what I mean."
"Drop it Wayne. I kinda like her."
"Why not...she'll be good for your complexion."
It was no use debating with Wayne Tilly about the merits of one of the local wenches. He prided himself on being a man of the world, and he wasn't taken in by what passed for affection between the Garry ladies and his army buddies. They were doing what had to be done to latch onto a career guy who could look forward to a move every couple of years. Anywhere, away from Garry would be a move for the better.
Silky had been seeing a lot of Rona, and she had stopped her outside interests which had earned her the reputation of being one of the locals you could count on, if you felt an urgent need to get your rocks off. Now the urgent types had to develop new resources for themselves.
As much as he liked Rona, he never brought her to his farm or told her anything about his plan. No one knew what he had in mind. Now that the first bunch of summer recruits had arrived, he would have to put his scheme into high gear. Next payday was his turn to accompany Sayer to the bank. The day for his attack on the payroll would have to come two weeks after that.
The time flew by. It was difficult hiding his anxiety at work. He began leaving a little earlier, but only after he had completed all his work, and much of Wayne Tilly's as well. He told Sayer he was being pressed to complete some correspondence assignments, and he really needed the time. Sayer seemed to understand and since Silky had been making a sincere effort to mix more with the other soldiers, he didn't mind giving him a little slack for his studies.
As his sports car skidded into the dust at the end of his laneway, Sandy ran out to meet him, jogging behind the red convertible to the back of the property. Silky rushed into his small room and changed out of his uniform into some old clothes he managed to acquire at a Goodwill store when he was on leave. He came out to his vintage grey van and headed out of the lane towards County Road 11. On the highway he turned west towards the village of Forbes.
Forbes was smaller than Garry. The general store had a gas pump outside, and a few doors down was a barber shop. A bell rang as he opened the swinging door. There was the heavy smell of fertilizer and other chemicals. Every square inch of counter space was in use.
"Morning'...somethin' I can do for ya?" asked a grizzly old man, in his late sixties, studying this newcomer carefully.
"Hope so...Got a problem with my potatoes. Somethin's cuttin' holes in them."
"That'd be slugs. Had a lotta complaints about slugs this year. Must be the dry weather."
He reached under the counter for a one pound box of "Slug Bait", and put it in front of Silky.
"This'll do it. Use it myself...New around here?"
"Got a small place I'm rentin'. See if I like country livin' before I go big."
"Whose farm that'd be?"
"Near Garry. Don't really know the owner. Got it from an agent."
"That'd be Joe Lawson, or Pete Marwick?"
Silky was getting impatient. He was worried this old codger was the kind of guy who could finger him later.
"You sure know everybody around here."
"Gotta. It's my business. People like it if you can call them by their name when they come in here."
Silky looked intensely at the box, stalling for time, to avoid answering his questions.
"You're sure this'll take care of my problem?"
"Best there is...But you gotta be awful careful. It'll kill a good sized dog in about twenty minutes. They tell me it smells and tastes so good, the poor animals just can't resist it. Dangerous too if you got kids."
"All I got is somethin' eatin' my potatoes before I can get a chance at em."
"Grubs...I'm sure it's grubs. That'll be three seventy five. Think one pound'll be enough?"
"Plenty. I only got a small plot for my own use." He picked up the package and started for the door. As it swung behind him the old guy tried again.
"Hey...What'd you say your name was?"
Silky looked back and smiled.
"I didn't".
Now that he had the poison, he had to complete the other details. Tomorrow was the big day. Walking to the bush at the back of his property, he carried a shovel and took Sandy along. About a hundred feet into the bush, he began clearing a space of debris, and started digging.
"Don't just stand there looking stupid. This is your specialty, help me dig the hole."
Sandy followed his example and the two made fast work of the chore. The dog was in his glory. Silky had to laugh out loud when he saw how eager his pet was.
"Doesn't take much to make you happy eh boy...I can hardly believe it. Tomorrow will be the big payoff if nothing screws up. You wouldn't let me down would you old fellow?"
When the hole was finished, he lined it with plastic, putting earth on the edges to stop it from blowing away. Bending down, he patted his dog on the head.
"We really work well together. I wish to hell there was another way of doing this. I'm gonna miss you old friend."
Back at the farm, he transferred a gallon container of gasoline from his sports car into the grey van and took Sandy into the house.
"Gotta wait here till I get back. Be a good dog. No chewing the curtains while I'm away. If everything goes okay, I'll be back in about an hour. Gawd I can't believe I just did that. I'm talking to a dog and telling him when I expect to return, as if he could understand what I've said."
He hurried to his sports car and raced out of the lane to an abandoned gas station on the Garry highway. Parking the car out of sight behind the derelict building, he went to a public telephone near the pumps and put in a quarter, getting a dial tone. Smiling, he retrieved his coin and began walking down the road, back to his farm. A guy in a pickup gave him a ride to the front of his laneway.
There was a lot of tension in that small room. Sandy was particularly friendly and it made it even harder.
"Tomorrow's going to go down in history old pal." He smiled at his comment. "At least in my history. Over half a million bucks." He looked at the wonderful warmth in Sandy's eyes. The dog pressed his handsome face against his leg and looked up at him.
"You've been a perfect partner Sandy...Gonna miss you, that's for sure."
He went to the fridge and took out a package of hamburger and returned to the table. On it were a small spoon, and a balance scales.
"Two ounces of this stuff will blow your mind in ten minutes...All I need is a chance to clear outa there before they notify anyone...Crazy ain't it. All this trouble to buy me just ten minutes." He smiled as he thought about it. "And over half a million bucks."
Sandy still pressed against him as he went about his work. He wished the two of them hadn't got so close. It was starting to feel like premeditated murder. But what the hell, he was only a dog. As soon as he thought it, he felt ashamed. Sandy was more than a dog. He was his partner. Gotta stop thinking like this. He began to talk aloud again.
"I gotta keep cool...I wonder if anyone ever used a dog as an accomplice before. Hear that Sandy...You and me are gonna hit the Canadian Army. You should be given the George Cross...You're gonna give your life to the cause in peacetime...But what the hell. You know what I'm tryin' to say. You've been a civil servant long enough."
Silky bent down to hug his friend. His eyes got watery as he saw the complete trust being given back to him.
"Jeezus Sandy...I'm gonna miss you. More than you'll ever know. If only there was another way."
Weighing the poison, he opened the hamburger ball he had made and sprinkled the white powder inside, and remade the ball. He pushed the poisoned meatball away from himself and made another. Putting the good meatball on the floor in front of him, he continued talking to his dog.
"Too bad people aren't as disciplined as you Sandy. World'd be in better shape...Okay...you can have it."
The dog didn't move.
"Sorry old boy. Better not do that tomorrow. That's my fault. Let's do it right this time. Sandy!" he paused. "Eat."
Swiftly the animal devoured the morsel.
"You've learned your lessons well. Let's hope tomorrow you'll be just as sharp."
He put the poisoned meatball into a plastic container. Picking up a duffel bag, he opened it, and took out a rubber mask of Trudeau which he pulled over his face. He stood up and looked into a mirror.
"You've always been an independent bastard, giving people the finger. I can hear the news report already...The thief looked like Prime Minister Trudeau, in old farm clothes. He didn't say anything except yell at his dog to eat a meatball..."
He pulled off the mask while still looking at himself in the mirror.
"Have I got the guts to do it?" Patting down his slick hair he smiled. "Of course I've got the guts...I'm as smooth as silk."

view the biography of William James Johnson at www.noozoon.com